


Hot Gossip

by withthepilot



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alcohol, First Time, Gossip, M/M, Open Relationships, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-31
Updated: 2010-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:24:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthepilot/pseuds/withthepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karl's always found that press tours are meant for breaking the rules. This time, it all starts with John and karaoke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Gossip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [between_names](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=between_names).



It starts as these things often do: with karaoke.

Karl clutches his drink and smothers his face with his free hand while Joe Quinto murders an old Elvis tune in the background. Absolutely no one is paying attention to Joe—Chris keeps walking back and forth between the bar and the group, almost walking right into Joe a few times—and while Karl assumes that background karaoke is equivalent to white noise for the Japanese, he thinks that at least one person would be watching if Joe were any good.

He's not good. He's not good at all.

"Fuck meeee," Karl groans into his palm. Someone sidles up beside him at the bar and rests a hand on his shoulder that's too delicate and fine-boned to belong anyone but Zoe.

"Tempting," she says, sipping at a multicolored cocktail. She darts her eyes between Karl and Joe, who's still hard at work butchering a classic. "But you're married and right now, a murder-suicide is looking like the more attractive option."

"I hope your plan is to murder Joe, the actual perpetrator of this crime against rock and roll. And I have an open marriage."

Zoe smirks at him. "Whatever that means. Oh, thank god, he's finishing up."

Karl turns his head and gives Joe a polite golf clap, along with Zoe and maybe two other people in the entire club. Joe gives a round of exaggerated bows for an audience that exists only in his mind, and then hands off the microphone to none other than John, Karl's suite mate during their time in Tokyo.

"Okay." Karl wags a finger decisively. "Now, John can sing."

"I don't know," Zoe says, shrugging. "I mean, you're right, but karaoke has a way of sapping the talent from people."

Karl thinks to himself that Zoe's right, but he has faith in John—and not just because John has proven to be the best suite mate Karl's had thus far on their press tour. For a while, there was Chris with his infernal snoring, so loud and rattling that Karl often worried the kid would stop breathing in his sleep. Then he got stuck with Zach, who indulged in an endless, 24/7 beauty regime that paired big, fluffy robes with overnight facial masks and made him look more like a '50s housewife than anything else. John, in comparison, is a dream. He limits his nightly ritual to face washing and teeth cleaning, and every morning, he takes a simple shower and shave. Karl doesn't have to fight for bathroom counter space amidst creams, gels, and oversized tweezers, and, perhaps most mercifully, John sleeps like the dead and never makes a peep.

And if he's terribly easy on the eyes, whether in a three-piece suit or a plain white T-shirt and boxers, well...that's just an added bonus. Karl's married, sure, but he's not blind.

"All right, boys and girls," John announces. A familiar-sounding song starts up, something synthy that Karl remembers from his misspent youth. "I'm about to take you back to the smooth pop stylings of one our most beloved decades: the 1980s."

"Oh, god," Karl mutters to Zoe. "Is that _Duran Duran_?"

"Wow," Zoe says, giggling. She motions to the bartender. "We're gonna need refills over here."

While Karl is grateful for the fresh G&T in his hand and Zoe's attempt to distract him with some story about her boyfriend Keith—he of the dreamy eyes and flashy smile and the ability to give all other red-blooded males inferiority complexes—Karl finds he can't help but listen avidly to John's rendition of "Save a Prayer." It's not a bad song, not really, and John sure is singing the hell out of it. Karl nods along and watches John as he plays to the crowd, including Joe, who looks a little annoyed that John's performance is more popular than his own.

"Karl." Zoe snaps her fingers in front of his face. Karl startles and looks to her with a pout. "Enjoying the show?" she asks, grinning.

"Like I said, he's good."

He turns back to John just as he reaches a particularly dramatic part, holding his free hand to his chest and crooning in a higher pitch. John catches sight of Karl looking, of course, and reaches out to him pleadingly, as if he's serenading Karl and there's no one else in the room.

"And you wanted to dance, so I asked you to dance, but fear is in your soul! Some people call it a one night stand but we can call it paradise!"

"Jesus Christ," Karl huffs. "Are those really the words to the song?"

"It's a classic." Zoe shrugs and holds her straw delicately between her thumb and forefinger as she sips. "Anyway, you should be so lucky. I hear John's great in bed."

Karl puts down his drink. "Who told you that?"

Zoe just grins her dazzling grin as the song wraps up and most of the people in the club give John a round of applause. "Wouldn't you like to know," she says. She slips off her stool and wanders toward Zach's table, just as Chris leaves his side to take the mic from John. Not ten seconds later, Karl recognizes the first few notes of "Simply Irresistible." Zoe pulls Zach off the sofa to dance; he has enough alcohol in his system to launch into this awful cabbage patch move that has Karl snorting into his drink.

"Terrible dancer," John says, joining Karl at the bar. He's smoking a cigarette, which is something Karl's only seen him do a few times. It's probably difficult to resist, what with practically everyone else in the bar lighting up, away from the ever-looming lenses of the paparazzi. He expels a thin gust of gray smoke from between his pursed lips. "Quinto, I mean."

"God, he's the worst. What is he even _doing_ with his fists?"

"Just goes to show: Being gay doesn't automatically come with a set of twinkle toes."

Karl laughs and gulps at his drink. "But you, though. That was quite a performance. Very, uh…suggestive."

"Sorry if it was weird when I singled you out." John shrugs, his eyes twinkling. "I figured you wouldn't mind."

"Not a bit."

John gets a drink and then they turn back to the current performance. Zach seems to be floating closer and closer to the area of the floor that Chris is occupying, ignoring Zoe's company for the hypnotizing sway of Chris' hips. Or at least that's the way Karl sees it. From the look on John's face, he seems to share the same interpretation.

"Hey," John murmurs, elbowing Karl's side lightly. Karl leans in to hear him. "Think they're fucking?"

Karl smirks and thinks back to the night before, when everyone was still jet lagged and they decided to haunt the hotel bar instead of going out on the town. The group had lost track of the captain and his first officer altogether after about two hours. When Karl and John decided to retire to their room early—after a round of mocking jokes laughter from the others about being old and feeble—they got about two steps into the lobby when they spied Chris and Zach sitting in armchairs, ignoring their cocktails and talking animatedly. Chris was gesturing like crazy, as he always does when he's completely wrapped up in the subject matter at hand, and Zach interjected with laughter, grabbing at Chris' wrists to get him to pause and listen when he spoke. Neither of them missed the way Zach's thumbs moved over Chris' pulse points, back and forth, a gesture that read of affection and possession all at once.

"Wow," John murmured, just loud enough for Karl to hear. "So it's like that, huh?"

Karl just smiled knowingly and waved to catch Zach's eye, calling, "Thanks for abandoning us, boys!" Zach saw him and waved back sheepishly, nudging Chris to do the same. John was still laughing about it by the time they crawled into their beds.

"Maybe," Karl says. He flickers a glance over at John. "You think?"

John shrugs one shoulder. "Pine had me pretty convinced he was straight, but…I dunno."

"Can you imagine? How that would…" Karl laughs to himself before he realizes he's thinking aloud. John gives him a curious smile, as if asking him to go on, but Karl shakes his head and finishes his drink in one swallow. "Never mind me. Too much to drink. Sorry."

"No worries, man." John gives him a critical look. "Feel like heading back to the hotel?"

Karl rolls his eyes. "Oh, sure. That'll do wonders for our elderly image."

"I'm not saying we have to tuck each other in as soon as we get there." John downs what's left of his drink and licks his lips, setting the glass down. "Besides, if you're up for it, I've got a surprise waiting back in the room."

"Uh oh," Karl says. "What's this surprise, then? Hookers? Blow? Hookers waving around bags of blow?"

John huffs as he slides off his stool. "You're ruining the surprise." He grins sharply at Karl and adjusts the lapel of his jacket. "Come on, old man."

Karl leaves more than enough yen on the bar and gets up with only a slight wobble, following after John. He takes one final look around and assesses the scene before him: there's Zoe chatting with Eric and Joe, huddled together on a plush sofa, Anton singing some terrible indie rock garbage that Karl's never heard before in his life, and Chris and Zach dancing together, gazing into each other's eyes as if they're the only living souls in the entire club.

It's safe to assume that no one sees them leave.

They hop into one of the cars provided for them by the studio, waiting and ready by the club's exit. The driver speaks English well, thank fuck, even if the only instructions that come out of Karl's mouth are, "Hotel, please." He's grateful to be out of the club and away from all that chattering and loud music. Hell, maybe he is old. Karl watches as John lights another cigarette and shakes his head to decline politely when John offers him a drag. Nat convinced him to quit ages ago, for the sake of the kids, and sneaking occasional smokes when he's away makes him feel guilty, even if it's a given that press tours are meant for breaking all sorts of rules. As far as he knows, John isn't a smoker either. There's just something about Tokyo, from all the people puffing away in restaurants and bars, to the looming presence of its sidewalk cigarette machines, which makes the idea of joining in the fun so alluring.

"Should I or should I not tell Kerri about you smoking your way through Japan?" he asks, his head lolling back on the leather seat.

"That's cold, Karl." John smirks and cracks the window open wider. "I'm going to say no. But it's okay, really. She knows what kind of hedonism goes down during press tours. We had a long talk about it before I left."

"A talk, huh?" Karl inches a little closer to John's side of the car, the cigarette smoke stark and burning in his nostrils. "I suppose that would explain the hookers and blow waiting for us back in the room."

"Trust me when I say that all hookers and blow are wife-approved."

Of course, there's nothing waiting in their room save for a pair of immaculately made beds and a well-stocked bar. Karl toes off his shoes and sits on the edge of his bed, loosening the knot of his tie, suddenly desperate to get it off.

"So, what's the surprise?" he asks.

"Namely this," John says. He crosses to the fridge and pulls out a tall bottle of sake, wrapped in a big red bow. "Gift from the concierge," he explains. Karl gapes and barely resists the urge to make grabby hands for it.

"How did you manage that, Cho?"

"I'm a charming Korean-American actor. The ladies do swoon for this face, you know."

"I've had my share of swooners," Karl huffs. He pulls off his tie completely and tosses it somewhere behind him. "Going to share?"

"I wouldn't have told you about it if I wasn't," John says. He goes to fetch two ceramic cups from the bar and Karl notices that John's tie is hanging loose, too, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He half-wonders when John did that. "I have no doubt about the swooners, by the way. It's a veritable cadre, I'm sure."

Karl groans and flops back onto the bed. His head hits a pillow, which seems miraculous until he remembers that there are about eighteen pillows, all difficult to miss.

"You bloody English majors and your vocabulary words. I've had too much liquor and far too much karaoke to put up with it."

John walks over to Karl's bed and hands him his drink. "I thought you enjoyed my performance. I'm wounded."

"Yours, sure. But only yours." He lifts his cup to John's and nods his thanks. "Cheers."

The sake is good. It burns dreamily on the way down and adds nicely to Karl's ongoing buzz, which is a lot more enjoyable now that they're not in that club. He's barely drained his cup when John appears by his side to pour him a second serving. Karl begs off on the third, allowing for a short break. John heads to his own bed and turns on the TV to fill the time until the drink starts flowing again.

Karl's eyelids begin to droop dangerously and he's about two seconds away from dozing off altogether when John suddenly speaks up.

"So what were you going to ask me in the bar?"

"Huh?" Karl asks. He rolls his head back onto his many pillows to regard John properly.

"When we were talking about Chris and Zach. You said something like, 'Can you imagine how they would...?' And then you trailed off."

"Oh, god." Karl barks out a laugh, remembering now. He folds his arms behind his head and grins lazily. "Silly, really. I had a fleeting, ill-advised thought of Pine and Quinto doing the horizontal mambo."

Suddenly John is up like a shot, balancing his weight on his elbows and grinning, shark-like, over at Karl. "No shit," he says. "Who was on top?"

"Oh, _Christ_ ," Karl groans.

"I'm serious, man!"

"Oh, for..." Karl scrubs a hand over his face and steels himself before answering. Why John is so interested, he has no idea, but hey, this has the potential to be the most interesting conversation he's had in months. It might require more sake, though. "Chris."

"You're kidding." As if reading Karl's mind, John leans over to pour them fresh cups of sake, though he doesn't make a move to drink any yet and neither does Karl. "I've always thought Zach would be the one on top."

"Oh, you've always thought, have you? And just how much time have you actually squandered in pondering Pine and Quinto's hypothetical sexcapades, pray tell?"

"Now who's using big words?" John retorts, smirking. He pushes Karl's cup closer to him, across the nightstand. "You're obviously still too sober."

"Obviously," Karl agrees. He sighs as he picks up the cup and downs the sake. It doesn't burn anymore. "But seriously. You do think about it?"

John smiles as he rests his head on his pillows again. "Well, sometimes. It's not like I really get off on it or anything. I mean, I've thought about what everyone in the cast must be like during sex."

"Oho, hold on, now," Karl exclaims, laughing loudly. " _Everyone_ , John?"

"Oh, like you've never thought about it," John scoffs. He has the decency to look ever so slightly chastened by the subject matter, but it's too late for shyness now and they both know it. Karl watches in amusement as John reaches out blindly for his sake and somehow manages to get the cup to his mouth, despite the awkward angle. "I mean, it's a press tour. What else do we have to do all day but think about our friends in compromising positions?"

"It's certainly more fun than explaining to people where New Zealand is on a map." Karl turns over onto his side and focuses his slightly blurred attention on John, ignoring the TV. He doesn't understand Japanese television, anyway. It's all blinking lights and people clapping over nothing. "Well, in light of these new developments, I reckon we ought to go down the list, don't you? Compare notes, like."

"Okay, fine. As long as you're admitting you're as much of a pervert as I am."

"All right. I admit that I'm a pervert." Karl feigns a long-suffering sigh and John grins at him, looking way too smug for words.

"In that case, we'll start with Quinto."

"I still say he's the one taking it. You saw the way he dances."

John laughs heartily at that, fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt that's still fastened. "How nonjudgmental of you. Don't you remember the way he was holding Chris' hands the other night? Not even his hands, his _wrists_. It was, like…an obvious gesture of dominance."

"Well, I'm not a body language expert, but what if it was more of an attention-seeking thing?" Karl asks, yawning faintly. "I just can't picture him on top. You know he only takes those yoga classes so he can come up with creative ways to bend over."

"Or," John challenges, holding up a finger, "he takes them to build up his strength so he can pin Chris down and fuck him hard."

"Jesus." Karl shivers involuntarily. He has to admit, the idea of Chris bent in half and taking it from Zach isn't entirely displeasing to his mental faculties. He glances over at John, his brows furrowed. "You really think he would?"

"I mean, I'm just hypothesizing. But, yeah. I think Zach's a possessive, controlling top, and Chris is a big ol' bottomy bottom."

Karl takes a few moments to process this, rolling his tongue around in his mouth. It feels rather fuzzy. "How, ehm… How do you think he acts when he bottoms, then? Desperate, like? Sobbing and drooling and whatnot?"

John laughs again. "I wouldn't go _that_ far. But I bet he begs for it."

"Yeah." Karl nods to himself, finding himself imagining it without even really trying. It's not long at all before he realizes he's half-hard in his trousers. "I reckon he must make ridiculous faces."

" _So_ ridiculous. His tongue hanging out and everything."

"Oh, god."

They both burst into laughter at the idea. Karl snorts into his pillow and John giggles, changing the channel on the television.

"But, you know," John muses, once he's got his giggles under his control. "Despite being ridiculous, I bet it's actually kind of hot."

Karl nods. "No, you're right. Especially if Quinto's using those eyes on him. You know how he is, when he gets that look…?"

"Yeah, no, I know," John says, his voice a bit softer. "I know."

He's still fiddling with that shirt button and Karl has to force himself to look away, even if he is damn well curious about when it's going to finally pop loose. He needs to get back to talking and away from staring and thinking.

"All right, then," Karl says abruptly. "Let's move on. Zoe."

"Oh, my _god_ ," John groans, tilting his head back for emphasis.

"Tell me about it. Those eyes."

"Those _legs_ ," John adds. "Can't you just imagine them wrapped around your waist or your head while you—"

"I can, and I have," Karl answers quickly. He wraps his arms around the pillow nearest to him, huddling it to his chest. "I reckon she's the old-fashioned sort: fierce when she wants to be, but a lady underneath the tough exterior. And I've heard enough googly-eyed stories about Keith to know that he's aces in the romance department."

John nods, licking his lips idly. "I guess I just like to think of the fierce part. When I think about it, that is." He cringes. "Which…is not as often as I just made it sound."

"It's probably even more than that." Karl grins and flicks his hand. "Okay, go on, you pick one now."

"Hmmm." John grins wickedly and finally turns onto his side, looking back at Karl. The fabric of his shirt gets caught underneath his body and stretches, revealing even more skin than before. "Okay. Anton."

Karl groans. "No fair. He's a child."

"A sexy child," John amends. "With pouty lips and curly hair. Like a…like a sex cherub." He waves a hand in the air and Karl snickers, glad to see that he's not the only one feeling the effects of the sake.

"I imagine he's eager," Karl says. "They all are when they're that young. So willing to please."

"God, man, stop talking like that, you're making me horny."

"If you'd arranged for hookers, as we discussed, that wouldn't be a problem."

John laughs and reaches into his trouser pocket to grab his rapidly emptying pack of cigarettes, lighting one quickly. He offers one to Karl but he just shakes his head and nudges the ashtray on the nightstand closer to John's side. He can live vicariously through the secondhand smoke in the air. Plus, it's fun to watch John take his long, lingering drags.

"I would fuck Anton," John finally says. "I mean, if the opportunity presented itself."

Karl swallows. "Yeah? That'd be hot." Did he really just say that? Christ. The cigarette smoke is making him lightheaded. "I guess I would, too."

"You should tell him so, man," John says, gesturing with the cigarette. "He fucking worships you."

"He worships everyone. Don't get any ash on the bed; you'll start a fire."

"He'd worship your _dick_."

"Shut it, Cho. Now you're getting _me_ horny," Karl protests. The truth is, he's been horny for a while now. Ever since John sang that stupid song at the karaoke club.

"Okay, okay. Sorry. Here, I've got one to cool you down a bit, promise." John's got that grin on his face again as he puts out his cigarette in the tray and Karl has a dreadful feeling that he knows where this is going. "Bana."

"Christ," Karl laughs wearily, looking away. "Must we?"

"He's in the cast! He's fair game!"

Karl takes a deep breath and pauses before looking over at John. "Let's just say that I have it on very good authority that he's more than decent," he replies, as slowly and calmly as possible.

Unfortunately, intoxication doesn't make John any less of an evil genius. He gives Karl a confused look, then lets out an exaggerated gasp, pointing at him.

"Oh, my god, you fucked Bana," he drawls.

"I was young! And, well…eager." Karl groans and smothers his face with his pillow, muffling his voice. "Fuck off."

" _That_ , my friend, is _amazing_. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"There's nothing to tell!" He huffs and drops the pillow. "It was at some party. I was young and horny, he was handsome and charming and funny. Also, there was alcohol involved. In fact, I'm ninety-nine percent sure Eric doesn't remember it."

"But you do, obviously."

Karl sighs quietly and nods. "In excruciating detail."

"Tell me about it," John says. He bends his arm to prop his head up on one hand and stares at Karl intently. "We've neglected to broach the topic of what _you're_ like in bed, so, y'know…we can kill two birds with one stone. I mean, unless it's too uncomfortable."

"Telling one of my best mates about an awkward sexual encounter from my youth with a current cast mate? How on Earth could that be uncomfortable, John?"

"You act as if you don't have a performance kink, Urban," John replies smoothly. Karl feels himself flush; how the hell could John know that about him? He gives John the most annoyed look he can muster and John smiles, shaking his head. "Sorry, man. I'm just curious and horny. As noted. If you don't want to, you don't have to."

Karl licks his lips, which suddenly feel very dry. "It's not that I don't _want_ to. It's just… I don't exactly know what we're doing, here."

John hesitates, but only for a couple of seconds, before he reaches for the remote and shuts off the television entirely. Then he looks back at Karl with eyes that seem a little too clear for someone who's just had nearly half a bottle of sake. Karl recognizes the determination there, and maybe something more.

"It's cool, man," John says, his tone belying the look in his eyes. "You're going to tell me a story and I'll listen, and then we'll see what happens from there."

"All right," Karl finds himself agreeing. He pauses and the sudden silence in the hotel room hits his ears like a truck. He almost wishes that the television were back on, for some blessed background noise, but John turned it off for a reason. He forces himself to start talking, keeping his voice fairly low. "I was in my early twenties…around Anton's age, maybe a little older. Trying to land as many television gigs as I could, so that meant accepting as many party invitations as I could. You know, you never knew who you were going to meet at these things. So I went to this affair at some producer's house, and Eric was there."

"Right," John says, nodding along, even though this is the boring part.

"Right, so… He was on this Aussie comedy show. I'd seen him before. I doubted he could get me on the show, seeing as how it was a sketch thing and they had their cast. But, as I said, he was charming and funny."

"And hot."

Karl laughs and nods. "Quite. So, I don't know, we talked, we drank… I asked him if he wanted to have sex and he said yes. I think I was the one who asked."

"I'm sure you were," John says. Whatever that means. Karl clears his throat.

"Well, we found this bedroom. Disrespectful of us, but neither of us was in the position to drive anywhere."

"These things happen. So, go on. He topped?" Karl nods and John smiles crookedly. "And he was 'more than decent'?"

"Fuck you," he says, laughing. He angles his body closer to the mattress and tries not to sigh at the feel of the solid surface against his groin. "Yes, more than decent. As previously described."

"Tell me what he was like," John cajoles quietly. "What you were like."

Karl swallows, closing his eyes as he recounts it. "He took care of me, really. Kissed the living daylights out of me…undressed me. I—I begged for it, thought he would want me to. But he wasn't so rough. He just…bent me over the foot of the bed and fucked me."

"Did he touch you?" he whispers.

"Yeah, in all the right places, too. Left quite a stain on that producer's bed sheets."

They both laugh softly, amiably, but when Karl opens his eyes again, he sees that John is passing a hand between his legs, giving himself a subtle squeeze as he listens. Just like that, a hot rush of heat rushes through Karl's body and lands at his groin, and he goes from half-hard to rock-hard. He has to admit, he likes the way this is going—the way John is taking control, not physically, but just by directing the conversation and being the first to start with the touching. It's as though he's giving Karl permission to do the same. Karl indulges himself by rocking a little harder against the mattress, though he catches the groan that threatens to escape between pursed lips.

"Man," John says softly, peering over at the other bed. "Why haven't we ever had sex?"

"Um, your wife?" Karl ventures, laughing under his breath. "Just because she's petite doesn't mean I don't fear her wrath."

"Point. But I told you, man. We had a talk before I left."

"Right, your talk." Karl blinks, not quite sure what John is getting at. He thinks he knows, but it all just seems a little strange at this point. "So…what? You can have sex with other people now?"

John smiles at him. "We're trying that 'open' thing that you and Nat are so fond of. I haven't really wanted to yet, but right now…?"

Karl nearly loses his breath when John trails off, his dark eyes traveling hungrily up and down Karl's sprawled body. "I really hope you're not fucking with me," he says quickly. When John laughs and shakes his head, he grins widely, despite himself. "Shit, John. I'm not really the same as I was when I was twenty-two, you know."

"Of course not. You're more of a grown man now. You're not just looking to bend over and take it." John sits up gradually and finally, _finally_ starts to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt as he makes his way over to Karl's bed. The bed creaks faintly when John lowers himself to the mattress and Karl exhales right along with it. John looks at him inquisitively. "But you do want to be fucked, don't you? That's why you're in an open relationship to begin with, I'm guessing."

Karl lets his gaze linger over John's body, daring to reach up and touch the smooth, exposed skin where his shirt hangs open. "Sometimes," he murmurs.

"Sometimes," John repeats, grinning. "With age comes denial, I see." He pulls off his shirt entirely and motions for Karl to do the same. "Come on, old man."

It's hard for Karl to argue with sound logic, especially when a shirtless John Cho is straddling his thighs. In seconds flat, they're both topless and pressed against each other, and then their mouths collide and Karl is absolutely gone. John tastes of tobacco and the remnants of sake and vodka, all the sins that Karl thought he left behind in his youth. Karl slides his hands into John's thick hair and laughs faintly into his mouth as he wonders just what Chris and Zach are doing right now.

"Dude," John says, pulling back with a soft gasp. "Do you find my boner amusing?"

"I was just wondering if Chris and Zach are busy doing what we're doing. Sorry."

"As you should be. I am so done talking about them." John runs his hands over Karl's chest and circles his nipples with his thumbs. Karl gasps faintly and arches up into the touch, cupping the back of John's neck. "I want to talk about you now."

"Do you want to talk or do you want to fuck?"

"You were the one who started laughing!"

John's mouth descends upon Karl's again and all thoughts of chatting fly out the window. Karl feels a bit giddy, between his strengthening buzz and the new, heady scent of John surrounding him. He flips them over and peppers John's face and neck with kisses, finding all the spots to tease that make John moan. Karl reaches down to help himself to a handful of John's ass, squeezing as he nips his collarbone, and John jerks upward, grazing their hips together. And yes, there's that aforementioned boner. Nothing amusing about it. Karl groans and shifts to rock against John, lost in the sensation, and John allows it for all of ten seconds before he switches their positions again. Karl finds himself pinned to the bed on his stomach with John's hands moving beneath him to undo his belt buckle and fly. John's lips leave a trail of kisses up and down Karl's back and he sighs, lifting up just enough to give John room to work.

"Fuck, John, you were right," Karl says, panting faintly with anticipation. "Should've done this ages ago. Should've said something about your open marriage thing."

"Didn't know if you were interested," John answers. He divests Karl of his trousers and underwear quickly, taking the time to knead at his exposed cheeks. "So very fucking glad that you are, by the way."

"You and me— _ahh_!" Karl nearly shouts when he feels John's thumb teasing him, sliding between his cheeks and running dangerously back and forth over his entrance. He grunts as he ruts helplessly against the mattress. "Oh, fuck, come on, John, come on, please…"

"See, you're not so different, really," John muses. He sounds as if he's in a bit of a trance back there. "Still begging for it, just like you used to, right?"

"Yes, well, except back then I wasn't always sure I was actually going to get it," Karl snaps. He pushes back against John's fingers and huffs out a laugh when John moans at the sight. "Now, unless you're planning on being especially cruel to your cock tonight, you'll go and fetch a condom and fuck me already."

"Jeez Louise," John says, moving off the bed.

" _Jeez Louise_?"

"That's what I said." John goes to fetch his jacket and pulls out his wallet from the inside coat pocket, extracting the condom inside. "We got lube around here?"

"Hand lotion," Karl says. He spreads his thighs a little wider and arches his back, pleased with the way it makes John's jaw drop. "In the bathroom."

John goes with a "fucking fuck" hissed under his breath. He comes back a moment later with a huge pump bottle and deposits it firmly on the nightstand. "This is staying right here for the duration of our time in Tokyo, got it?"

"You're the boss," Karl says, grinning. John grins back at him and assumes his position on the bed again.

"Damn right I am."

It's been a while for Karl, and he tells John as much, which leads to what feels like a tremendous amount of time spent stretching him out. Karl doesn't mind it much, as John works him deftly, finding the perfect angle in record time. He does start to get a little desperate after a lot of teasing, his cock pulsing with need as it rubs between the sheets and Karl's stomach, leaving a wet trail behind.

"Ready, John, ready, please," Karl manages to say. John doesn't waste any time with a reply—he just maneuvers himself into position behind Karl and rubs his cock over the slick patch between Karl's ass cheeks before sliding home, inch by glorious inch. Karl pushes back with low moans until John is fully seated and fists his hands in the sheets so he doesn't lose traction and fall forward.

"Mm, fuck, yeah," John murmurs into Karl's shoulder as he starts to thrust experimentally. "I'm definitely having this ass again, Urban. Just so you know."

Karl laughs breathily and reaches back to grip John's thigh. "You've barely had it a first time. One thing at a time."

"Well, shit," John says, and he punctuates it with a hard thrust that already has Karl shuddering and scrabbling at the sheets. "Have it your way, then."

It doesn't take much for Karl to lose himself in the immediate rhythm of John's thrusts, working back against him as they search for that delicious angle again. When they do find it, Karl's cock nearly leaps for joy, and he starts babbling under his breath without even realizing it, for John to touch him, stroke him, fuck him harder. John moans and mumbles something into Karl's neck that sounds suspiciously like _I'll take care of you_ , wrapping his fingers around Karl's needy cock. Karl submits to the glorious heat that feels like it's flowing steadily through his veins, his blood replaced with something even warmer, and rocks his hips between the push of John's thrusts and the pull of his hand. John fondles his balls, slides his thumb in a wicked path along the throbbing vein of Karl's cock, and Karl feels a deep groan register in his gut as he reaches the edge. He jerks forward and shuts his eyes tightly as he comes, leaving yet another memorable stain on sheets that don't belong to him. John starts thrusting faster into Karl's clenched heat and curses loudly when he comes, his fingers digging into Karl's hips.

When John pulls out and lets go, Karl barely feels his body hit the bed. It's possibly due to the eighteen pillows. He sighs quietly as a blissful, well-fucked sensation spreads over his body and turns his limbs to lead. He's not quite sure how much time passes before the bedside lamp goes off and he hears John whisper to him.

"Dude, you know you're lying in the wet spot, right?"

"Don't care," Karl mumbles into his pillow. "Deal with it in the morning."

"So does that mean you won't care if I sleep halfway on top of you?"

"Go for it."

John's exaggerating, really, but he does lie down right behind Karl. He even wraps an arm around him to steer him away from the wet spot. And if he leaves his arm there for the duration of the night, well, Karl's not going to complain.

Though there is one thing that nags at him, even as he nears the edges of sleep.

"No fair," he whispers.

"What?"

"We never talked about what _you'd_ be like in bed."

"Dude," John says, smothering a laugh against Karl's shoulder. "If you didn't notice, you just got a live demonstration."

"Oh, yeah." Karl smiles sleepily, satisfied enough with that to drift off. "I'll tell Zoe she was right," he murmurs.

If John makes a choked sound of surprise, Karl falls asleep too quickly to hear it.


End file.
